


The Hand That Calls You Forward

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-27
Updated: 2010-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something changes after she gets word vomit and confesses her love of Glee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hand That Calls You Forward

Something changes after she gets word vomit and confesses her love for Glee.

Rachel Berry starts to look at her a little differently, as if she’s not sure if Santana is going to suddenly launch forward and punch her in the face or if she would merely shrug and walk away.

It’s  _revolting_  that Santana probably wouldn’t hit Rachel, if she had the chance.

What’s even more revolting is that when Rachel is at her car when they get back from Sectionals, playing with the edges of the program from the invitational, biting down in her bottom lip, Santana doesn’t immediately gag or make some well-worn crack about male body parts; she doesn’t even wish she was at least holding a Slushie.

“Berry,” she says calmly. It’s not a hiss and it’s not a threat and it feels weird as it slips over her tongue and out her mouth.

“What you said back there-”

“We aren’t talking about it,” Santana growls. “I thought I made that clear.”

“I’m not putting an ad in the paper, Santana. I just wanted to say ‘thank you’.”

Santana crosses her arms over her chest, leaning up against the side of her car. “Thank you?”

Rachel nods and smiles lightly. “For not leaking the set list and for pulling us back together when we ready to turn on each other.”

“I didn’t do that. Finn did.”

“It was you,” Rachel insists. “When Quinn told us you and Brittany were Coach Sylvester’s moles, they were ready to turn on you, but you gave your speech and-”

And usually, Santana  _loves_  it when people praise her; she thrives off of it, actually, because coming in second to Quinn Fabray doesn’t always give her the recognition she deserves, and a compliment from Coach is something akin to a miracle, but Rachel Berry staring up at her with wide, shiny eyes and an earnest expression on her face is making her uncomfortable.

Her hands are on Rachel’s shoulders before she can stop herself. “I get it,” she says quietly, glancing around to see where everyone else is; if they’re watching this voluntary touching, but everyone is crowded around the trophy they won, giggling and shouting. Even Finn looks like he’s enjoying himself.

“It was really,” Rachel trails off, frowning, “nice of you. It was nice.”

Santana snorts and rolls her eyes. “I  _am_  capable of being nice, you know.”

Rachel nods enthusiastically. “Of course you are. We just don’t see it as often as we’d like to. I mean, you seem to live behind a mask of sorts and, well, it’s a pretty mask, but it’s a mask nonetheless and-”

Santana flexes her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and the shorter girl snaps her mouth closed, immediately opening it again. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

Santana almost smiles, but catches herself and smirks at the last second. “Keep the ranting to a minimum, okay? You’re going to give me a headache.”

Rachel smiles wide and nods again. “I just wanted to say thank you. It meant a lot to us. Well,” she blushes and bites down on her bottom lip again. “It meant a lot to  _me_.”

“Yeah, well,” Santana says, looking off towards the football field, taking her hands off Rachel’s shoulders and shoving them into the pockets of her cheerleading jacket. “Thanks for believing me,” she murmurs,

“You’ve never given me a reason not to,” Rachel says.

Santana quirks an eyebrow and Rachel’s face flushes. “Well, except for when you were trying to be my friend. But I consider that the past and Barbra Streisand never got as far as she did by holding onto past grudges. Besides,” Rachel adds, “you’ve grown, as a person. We all have.”

“God,” Santana sighs, her the corners of her mouth lifting up again. “Hanging with you guys is so bad for my reputation.”

“So is being soft.”

“So is being soft,” Santana repeats.

She watches Rachel look around and follows the shorter girl’s gaze: people are starting to pack up and get in their cars and Brittany is fawning over Quinn on the steps while Puck hovers in the background like a kicked puppy. When she turns back, she’s caught off guard by Rachel suddenly being so close and then there’s a warm hand on her shoulder and she’s vaguely aware of Rachel leaning up on her tiptoes.

There’s a warm mouth against her cheek and just as quickly as it comes, Rachel is stepping back, regaining her balance and blushing harder than before.

“Thank you,” Rachel whispers again, walking backwards a few steps before turning and sliding into a small car that’s probably been watching them the entire time.

She touches her cheek where Rachel just kissed her and can’t get herself to do anything but laugh.

It’s revolting that she doesn’t immediately wipe away the slight tackiness of lip gloss.

It’s revolting that she doesn’t find herself wanting to do that.

\---

Mr. Schuester, who rudely ran off in the middle of “My Life Would Suck Without You” comes back tugging at Ms. Pillsbury’s sleeve and holding a camera. His voice is so shrill and cracked – like a thirteen-year-old boy going through puberty – that she doesn’t hear what he says, but she’s being shuffled into a group of people and when the room stops spinning she’s standing in between Brittany and Rachel and Ms. Pillsbury is being told to turn the camera around or she’ll take a picture of herself.

“Hi,” Rachel whispers shyly.

Santana smirks a bit and feels like she wants to duck her head. “Hey yourself.”

“Sorry about the thing, in the parking lot, when I-”

Santana shakes her head. “No, it was fine.” She smiles a little bit, testing out how it feels on her face. “It was good,” she repeats.

“Really?”

The look on Rachel’s face is enough reason for Santana to say “ _pysch!_ ” and run the other way; it’s enough for Santana to turn to Coach and regain the trust she’s lost since she joined Glee; it’s enough for Santana to maybe get a little freaked out over.

Except that she finds her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her face gets really hot and she’s mumbling the word “ _really_ ” so softly that Rachel has to lean forward to hear it at all and by the time she regains her composure, Ms. Pillsbury has the camera facing the right way.

“Okay, everyone,” she says, holding the camera an abnormal length away from her body. “On three, say cheese!”

Santana feels a hesitant hand on her back, reaching across her shoulder blades and gripping her shoulder furthest away from Rachel. She turns her head to the left just enough to catch the coloring of Rachel’s cheeks, going so far down that the blush disappears beneath the white shirt Rachel’s wearing under her sweater vest.

She wonders how far the blush goes down.

Ms. Pillsbury starts the countdown and Santana makes a split-second decision, dropping her hand against the end of Rachel’s purple skirt.

On  _three!_  Rachel’s free hand moves, covering her own and the smile on her face – the real one that doesn’t feel like it works on her – suddenly slips into place, fitting the way it never did before.

“Really,” she repeats out of one corner of her mouth.

Rachel’s hand grips her own a little tighter, even after Ms. Pillsbury is finished taking the picture.


End file.
